Touched by the Echo
by RandomPenName
Summary: Sequel to Echoes of the Mind  1,701 Reviews , Peace can never last and now with the threat of war looming anew, can the ties our team have formed survive...or his history doomed to repeat itself?  Erik x Charles
1. Of Teleportation and TimeOuts

**A/N: This is a sequel to my story ****Echoes of the Mind****. It takes place three years after the first story ended. I strongly suggest that you read the other story first so you aren't completely confused about what is going on in this story. There are also many pieces of amazing fanart under my profile for Echoes of the Mind which may help you to picture the original story. If fanart is done for this one I will add them as well. I am starting a new job so I do not make the promise of a new chapter each day, but I will do my very best to stay as close to that as possible. Echoes of the mind has 1,620 reviews - and is my highest achievement. Not because of me - but because of all of you which followed it devoutly. You brightened my day by walking with me each step of this journey and I hope to see a lot of familiar faces for this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel , but the story concept is mine.**

**Slash warning: Erik and Charles = Don't like it? Don't read it.**

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><p>"Get out of that tree this instant!" Raven's voice carried across the many acres of the Xavier institute for gifted youngsters. She stood beneath the large elm tree just outside of the main entrance. Her arms were crossed over her bare blue form. Her foot tapped into the crumbled leaves of fall. The cause of her frustration could easily be identified as the fuzzy blue 4 and ½ year old perched on one of the highest branches.<p>

"Come get me!" Kurt called back down to his mother.

His toes gripped the branch with a surprising amount of skill, while his tail was held out behind him for balance. The long K-9 teeth in his mouth could have looked like fangs if not for the fact that he was grinning ear to ear at his mothers growing frustration.

"I will not! This isn't funny Kurt. Come down right now!" Raven's exasperation was impossible to miss.

"Why don't you just climb up there and get him?" A voice asked behind her.

Raven didn't have to turn around to recognize the voice as belonging to the young Jean Grey. If ever there had been a question as to rather or not the school was good for mutants, all one needed to do was meet Jean. It was hard to believe that she had shown up here almost 5 years ago. She lacked the ability to control her powers and has experienced the dying thoughts of a close friend. This had caused her to fall into a depression where she had stopped speaking.

It was hard to believe that was the same person who stood behind Raven now. Jean had beautiful red hair that flowed down to below the small of her back. She was becoming quiet the attractive young lady at nearly fifteen years old. One of the most gifted students at the school. Well, that's what Charles said. She didn't seem extremely impressive to Raven.

"Because, if I were to climb up there he would just teleport when I got close and I'm not playing chase when he is supposed to be in time out." Raven answered shortly before raising her voice to Kurt. "Fine. You stay out here. When you get back inside you'll just have to sit in time-out for twice as long."

"I'll just teleport again!" Kurt shouted with a grin.

Raven looked angry for a moment before smiling and looking up at him. "Fine. Teleport anywhere you like. Just remember - There is not way to see the kitchen and I'm sure you'll get hungry between now and then. Goodnight, sweetie."

She gave small wave to a suddenly doubtful Kurt and started to walk inside.

"Wait!" Kurt shouted, the prospect of missing out on the best part of the day just for a game was not as lucrative as before. If Kurt loved anything - it was eating.

Raven kept walking.

"Momma!" Kurt shouted.

Raven kept walking and had opened the door the main house. Then, in a poof of blue smoke and the smell of sulfur Kurt was beside her.

She looked down at Kurt with a smile. "Hello sweetheart! I thought you were in time out." Her tone was vague, as though she was not aware he had left the time-out chair in the den.

"I am." Kurt assured her, before gripping her hand with his own three fingered grip. "Just wanted to say love you." He jumped up and kissed her cheek. "Love you!" Then in a moment he was gone and could be seen sitting innocently in the time out seat across the room.

Raven smiled and looked at Jean in a whisper. "That boy plays me like a fiddle…"

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><p><strong>This chapter was very short, they will not all be this length. Don't worry - lots of Charles and Erik to come!<strong>

**Well, I got the blu-ray today and I think it was exactly what I needed to get geared up to continue this story. I am still looking for a beta reader so let me know if you are interested. Thanks all!**

**Please read and review.**

**Feed the Hungry Writer!**


	2. Tension

**AN: Thank you so very much for reading chapter two of Touched by the Echo! I'm going to try and stay as close as I can to a chapter a day like I did with Echoes of the Mind. I really hope you enjoy it. Can't wait to hear what you think and where you think the story is going. Have a great day!**

**Disclaimer: The Character's (with the exception of Omar) belong to Marvel, the Story is mine.**

**Charles + Erik = Don't like it? Don't Read it.**

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><p>The breakfast table was a noisy place in the morning. Today was no different as the students squabbled over who was able to get to certain seats first. Most of the student populace ate in the cafeteria, which had been put in to combat the growing numbers of students. The staff still ate at the table in the kitchen, gaining a few moments respite from the chaos of teaching school.<p>

Erik and Azazel were speaking quietly with their heads together at the table, ignored by the majority of the table. With the small exception of Alex who had never completely gotten past Erik's initial betrayal. He worked along side him. He trained and fought along side him. That said, Alex would never trust him completely.

Sean kicked Alex under the table, and gave him a 'your doing it again' glare. Alex didn't say anything, but he did turn his attention away from the whispering pair at the table.

Further down the table Raven was eating her eggs while trying to keep Kurt at the table long enough to eat his own meal. Hank sat beside making an equal effort to keep the child in his seat, but was as successful as Raven was. Eventually they gave up and let Kurt go to the cafeteria to eat with the other kids.

Angel and Bobby were talking civilly to one and other, but ,having broken up six months prior, their connection was a tense one.

Janos was poking at his eggs with a clear look of exhaustion. He rested his chin on his hand and tried to keep his eyes open. Eating would take entirely to much effort.

Erik suddenly stopped talking, his eyes on the door. He raised his finger tips ever so slightly, and Azazel grew quiet as well. Moments later the door opened, and Charles came into the room.

Charles looked healthy, if only a little tired. He wore a jacket and tie, every bit the constant professor. "Good morning," he called, and smiled at the echo of well wishes that floated back in reply.

He made his plate and took the spot next to Erik.

"Kurt already make his escape?" Charles asked with a nod toward his empty seat.

"What makes you think that?" Raven asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Telepath, remember," he teased, though in truth it was an easy observation. No mutant powers needed.

Azazel smirked. It wasn't hard to get the impression he enjoyed watching Kurt run laps around his parents. To his knowledge no one had told the boy the truth behind his parentage. Kurt was inquisitive. Azazel was confident that he would notice the similarities on his own. Though, having wanted no part in raising him, he wasn't sure how to respond to the boy's questions. Questions that he would expect answered.

"I will need a team to volunteer for a mission tonight," Charles said after the pleasantries had finished. The reaction was with out hesitation: forks were laid down, and all eyes were on Charles.

Charles surveyed the group. Some always seemed excited; Alex, Sean and Bobby. Others seemed tense; Angel and Erik. While others seemed void of reaction in general; Azazel and Janos. Though, he was certain Janos reaction, or lack there of, came from the fact that he was about to fall face first into his eggs.

"There have been rumors of a Mutant ring operating in Florida with plans to expand it business in Cuba," Charles started. He didn't need to be a telepath to feel the trepidation that cascaded down the table. 'Mutant Ring' was a polite way of saying a slave trade.

With the Mutant registration act had come a whole new set of problems. Not only was the government incarcerating mutants for their own goals, but now - so was the public. Seen by many as second class citizens, they were bartered and sold.

It made the X-Men sick.

X-Men, the term had started as a joke, but had soon been adopted as a loving covert name for the Mutants who worked for Charles Xavier. While he and Erik officially held the same amount of control, it had steadily become more of Charles' show as he was constantly drawing a line in the sand when it came to Erik's more extreme view on handling those who had hurt mutants.

The tension was starting to show.

"I'm going," Erik said, and for a moment met Charles' eyes. There was something in the unwavering eyes of the German that warned Charles not to contest him.

After a moment, Charles nodded. "Who else?" he asked.

"Me," Azazel answered evenly. Charles noticed the briefest exchange of glances between he and Erik.

Charles typically kept Azazel and Erik off the same team when possible. They killed too easily.

"Hank, I'm going to need you and Bobby on this this too." Charles said, cutting off the choosing of sides before it could happen completely.

Hank nodded. Bobby grinned, and replied, "Gotcha boss."

"I want to go."

The voice at the door effectively ended any further conversation.

The fifteen year old Omar stood in the doorway with a glass of tea in his hand. His hair had grown out to shoulder length, much to Charles' frustrations. He didn't think 'it's the style' was a good enough reason to go about in public like you didn't own a pair of scissors. Omar was 5'9 and thanks to growing up at the Manor, he was no longer the stick thin kid who had been rescued years ago. His English was also nearly indistinguishable from someone who had lived in the United States their entire life.

"Omar, we've been through this," Charles started.

"Yeah, and I still don't see your point. When Bobby first when on a mission he was sixteen. Now suddenly I'm too young? I don't have to go into the heat of it, but I could at least help out," Omar argued.

"Vat exactly can you do?" Azazel asked from beside Erik. The look he got from both Omar and Charles read that his input was appreciated. Of course, Azazel wasn't looking for appreciation, so he didn't care.

"If it's a night, I can see better than anyone, even you," Omar snapped at Azazel who lazily replied, "Da, and in the day, you are as blind as dey say…a bat."

"Omar," Charles started calmly, bringing the conversation down a notch. "I know you want to help, but right now you are a liability. Maybe when you are-"

"Older?" Omar shook his head in frustration. "You don't get it!" His eyes turned to Erik, "You're strangely quiet in all of this."

Erik was taking a drink of his orange juice when the conversation toward him. Slowly he lowered the glass and looked his way. Without speaking, he sent a metal spoon across the room, striking Omar in the chest.

Omar took a step back startled, then, upon the realization of what had happened - he got angry. "That was a cheap shot!"

"No," Erik said simply, standing up from the table. "That was a spoon. In a fight it could be a bullet, or a knife. If I have to watch you, then I can't be focused on the large scale of the conflict."

He knelt and picked up the spoon, a move which caused him to stand in front of Omar. He took the boy's hand and placed the spoon in it. "I'm sorry, but you aren't ready."

"That's bull-" Omar started, but Erik spoke over him, "I'll get you there. After this mission we can start working on helping you fight blind. Fair enough?"

Omar hesitated for a moment. He wanted to argue his point, but in that same respect he would be looking a gift horse in the mouth if he turned down the chance to be trained by Erik.

"Fair enough. You promise?" Omar sounded defeated, but when Erik gripped his shoulder briefly, he smiled.

"Promise." He took the spoon, and, with a little manipulation, turned it into a bracelet then gave it back to Omar. He wasn't a talker, but Omar understood a token of a promise when he saw one. Erik smiled when Omar slid to spoon bracelet onto his wrist.

Erik spoke, "Good. Now, go finish your breakfast. I'm going to need you in the German class to help with some of the kids who are struggling," Erik ordered. He made a point to never let Omar feel like he was disabled because he couldn't see in the light. Every hurdle that Erik had put in front of Omar had been cleared. He felt certain that the training would be no different.

Erik waited until Omar left the room before shutting the door behind him and turning his attention back to the conversation at hand. "When do we leave?"

"Tonight, 9pm," Charles answered evenly. He couldn't help but fear that he was loosing Erik. Day by day he felt that the other was rebuilding that shield around himself. Any time he had tried to bring it up, Erik would simply turn the accusation back on Charles. He missed the closeness of his best friend, and, while they still shared a bed and retained the image of two people who were close to each other, he wondered how long it would be before the levy broke and all the disillusions came crumbling down.

"See you then." Erik gave a wave of his hand, and left to follow Omar to his first class.

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><p>"Did it work? Did he agree?" Jean asked when Omar sat down behind her in class.<p>

"No," Omar grumbled.

"I bet I'll be on a mission before I'm 16," Jean said smoothly. She wasn't trying to be a braggart, but it certainly came across that way to Omar who slouched back in his seat with his arm crossed.

"Hey, I wasn't trying be mean," Jean added seeing his reaction.

"Clearly," Omar said, his attention to the side.

"I was just saying that I can see why they might worry with you not being able to see," Jean reassured.

"I'm not useless!" Omar shouted suddenly.

Jean flinched back, "Of course not, I was just saying.."

"Omar," The voice from the classroom quieted everyone. They might have pushed another teacher, but when Mr. Lensherr said get quiet - everyone did.

"What?" Omar said bitterly. He hated feeling so damned useless. He could see at night like it was day time, why did everyone treat him like he would fall over his feet if someone didn't hold his hand.

"Take a walk," Erik told him simply.

Omar grabbed his back, and stood up suddenly enough to flip his chair. He made no effort to pick up the fallen chair as he left the room and slammed the door in his wake.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath and began the lesson.

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><p>Omar walked the grounds for hours just trying to calm down. He had grown up here, and the halls were second nature to him. He found himself in the Jet Bay without ever planning on going in. The lights were off which made him grin. He loved the dark. He could see everything. The X-Jet, the panels, and storage for their suits.<p>

The vibrant yellow Kevlar to the dark blue knee pads - everything came alive at night for the young Mutant.

He wasn't useless.

He wasn't helpless.

He climbed onto the X-Jet, and opened one of the empty storage bunkers. Slowly he smiled.

He'd show them.

Then he climbed inside.

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><p><strong>Thanks for Reading and Reviewing!<strong>

**Feed the Hungry Writer!**


	3. From Good to Bad

**A/N: This is a sequel to my story Echoes of the Mind. It takes place three years after the first story ended. I strongly suggest that you read the other story first so you aren't completely confused about what is going on in this story.**

**There are also many pieces of amazing fanart under my profile for Echoes of the Mind which may help you to picture the original story. If fanart is done for this one I will add them as well. I am starting a new job so I do not make the promise of a new chapter each day, but I will do my very best to stay as close to that as possible.**

**Echoes of the mind has 1,000+- and is my highest achievement. Not because of me - but because of all of you which followed it devoutly. You brightened my day by walking with me each step of this journey and I hope to see a lot of familiar faces for this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel , but the story concept is mine.**

**Slash warning: Erik and Charles = Don't like it? Don't read it.**

**UPDATE: Thank you to everyone who alerted me to the 's glitch. It looks fine to me when I upload it and even when I preview it so I'm not sure what I can do to fix the problem. I'm going to upload it a second time to see if it holds it formatting. It had smushed text and deleted and over lapped words. I think I got them all, I just hope it holds when I press save. Thanks again!**

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><p>It was a cramped fit inside the cargo hold of the super sonic jet, at least for the 5'7 Omar. His knees were drawn up to his chest with a little room to flex his joints. He was grateful for the darkness as it enabled him to see that he was actually in the secondary storage area. Thankfully, the storage hold was empty save a small bag of emergency supplies, including food.<p>

He had just thought about sneaking out for a bathroom break when he heard the bay doors open and quickly ducked back inside the hold. He could hear the slightly echoed conversation as people boarded the plane. He held his breath, and waited to be discovered. He felt certain someone would have noticed he was missing. That concern lasted until he felt the plane roar to life. Omar braced his hands on the outer walls and closed his eyes, swearing not to open them until they reached flight to Florida

The flight took them a little over two hours, versus the typical commercial flight of three-hour duration. Guess having an ex-government agent design your planes has its high points.

In his hiding place, Omar could hear the radio bleep as Erik reported that they had landed. There was a moment of silence before it bleeped again and Raven's voice echoed back, clear enough to be understood even within the cargo hold.

"Roger that, Black Bird. You are okayed for one room at the Sunnyside Suites in Miami." Raven sounded tired.

"Mystique, where is Charles?" Erik answered back, echoing Omar's own thoughts - Charles normally handled transmissions. "Sleeping. Had a bad headache. Sorry to disappoint you, Magneto." Raven asked with a hint of mockery in her voice, as each responded with the other's code name. A method that had become protocol in order to protect the school's anonymity.

"Never a disappointment, Mystique - Black Bird Out." A more final three beeps signaled the end of the held his breath as he heard them exit the jet one by one. He waited another twenty minutes before slowly and carefully standing. His legs were full of knotted muscles and he took another few minutes to get the kinks straightened out enough to move easily. He took a pair of very dark glasses from his pocket. Even at their darkest they could not completely remove all of the light in the area. It gave him the same vision of a normally sighted person entering a very dimly lit room.

With bated breath he opened the door to reveal… absolutely nothing.

The plane was completely empty and he exhaled a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. He made his way through the plane and outside. He was surrounded by trees,and had a moment of fear realizing he was absolutely unaware of where he was. A loud car engine could have been the herald of angels to his ears because he knew he must be close to a road. He walked a few hundred yards before he felt the soft leaves and grass under his feet turn to solid, unyielding pavement.

He had two options on which direction to take and decided to turn right and follow the road. He walked for what felt like ages before he got that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Azazel was on the team. They could have teleported . He heard a car slow behind him. The crush of gravel under the tires made him certain that the driver had pulled off the road behind him. In a moment of dread the slight oscillation in the patterns of dim to dark lighting made him smile.

Police lights.

Finally, his day was improving.

"Good evening young man." The police officer sounded friendly as he walked toward Omar.

"Good evening, sir. " Omar held his breath, debating on the best direction of his story.

"Running away, son?" The policeman said, giving him his own out.

"I was sir," he lied, "but I got a little turned around. My family and I are…vacationing here. I guess I should have thought out the whole running away thing." He dropped his chin, every bit the rebellious teen that regretted his actions, a role not too far from reality in that particular moment.

"Where is your family staying at?" The man questioned with a knowing tone. Omar kept his poker face up, trying to recall what Raven had said on the radio. Slowly, he smiled. "Sunnyside Suites in Miami," he answered evenly and held his breath, hoping they weren't too far away, so that his story wouldn't lose creditability.

"You have been walking quite a while then," the policeman answered as Omar's insides tightened."I was angry," Omar added quickly, hoping that would explain the distance."Must have been, Sunnyside is an easy five miles from here," the policeman chatted nonchalantly, ignorant of the relief now visible on the fifteen-year-old's face. "Hop in, son."

Omar walked towards the dimly visible car, grateful for the sound of the door being opened to guide him. He tried so hard for people to not know he was blind, or a , there were times when he wondered which was worse. He rode in silence until the car came to a rumbling stop outside of the hotel. Omar thanked the officer and carefully walked inside. His moments were unsteady as being in unfamiliar environments made him nervous. It was so much harder to hide his weaknesses.

He made his way toward the service counter where a very bubbly woman asked if she could help him. Omar managed to charm his way into her thinking that he was part of Erik's group but had been locked out. She gave him another key and sent him on his way. Omar thought he was in the clear until he heard the woman call after him, "Oh, Sir!"

Omar's shoulders tensed, here we go. He had gotten this far and now he was going to be busted by one of the Doublemint Twins. "I wanted to tell you, your family left about ten minutes ago," she explained with a grin. Omar grinned too, excellent, well that made things easier.

"Thanks ma'am. I'll just wait for them in the room. Please don't tell them, I'd like to surprise them."She agreed and sauntered off to the counter. Omar found the room easily enough and knocked twice to test the options. When no one answered, he turned the key and walked inside.

It was blissfully dark and he could make out most of the room. From Hank's books to Erik's sketch pad on the side table. He pulled the door nearly shut before further exploring the room. He looked for any clues as to what the mission might was going according to plan. Omar couldn't help but be pleased with the results of this impromptu chance to prove himself in a mission.

He had snuck past four trained operatives. He had hidden aboard a plane. He had located their hide out and made it inside.

Yep, it was a wonderful moment of achievement, and as always, it was then that things turned horrible.

The cold steel of an edged weapon pressed against his throat and fingertips griped his shoulder, holding him still as the blade drew back to slice…

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><p><strong>I know there was lots of Omar in this chapter but don't worry the gangs all back in the next chapter!<strong>

**For better or for worse!**

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	4. To Protect Your Family

**A/N: I do not own the X-Men or any Characters in this story.**

**Contains Erik x Charles = Don't like it? Don't read it.**

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><p>There was a controlled pressure behind blade that was held to Omar's throat and he gave a soft cry as it drew blood. As suddenly as the pain began, it stopped. Somewhere in the panic Omar heard someone shout, "Release him!". Despite all of his bravery, Omar's knees buckled when he was abruptly let go and engulfed in the darkness as someone turned on the lights.<p>

The room that had exploded in noise only moments before, fell into an eerie silence. A strong hand grabbed Omar's upper arm and he tried to recoil but found he didn't get very far. He was still struggling as his attacker spoke to him. His voice just another sound lost in the panic.

"ist alles in Ordnung?" There was an urgency in his attackers voice. Something about the familiar language and the tones behind them pulled Omar from the panic. "Erik?" Omar's voice sounded small even in the quiet of the room.

The grip eased up on his arm once Omar stopped struggling. "Are you ok?" Erik asked once more, this time in English. The boy forgot his independence and all he had meant to prove. In that moment - he had never been so relieved that the closest thing he had to a parent was there to pull him out of the fire. He leaned forward and brought his arms around Erik's shoulders in the emotional grasp only a scared child could display.

Erik returned the hug as best he could as he still knelt in front of Omar He still gripped Azazel's sword in his left hand. He had nearly been to slow. By the time he had entered the room Azazel was in the process of killing the intruder in their room. Erik had drawn the other's weapon from him with the use of magnetism, and not a moment to soon.

Erik gave Omar a gentle push away from him to better survey the damage. "Omar, Are you alright?" Erik asked for a final time as he tilted the boy's chin up to examine the cut that was thankfully little more than a knick an inch to the left of his windpipe. It could have been so much worse.

"I'm..I'm Ok." Omar tried to sound tougher than he felt in that moment.

Erik visibly relaxed when the other finally gave a verbal response.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Bobby's voice entered into the loose conversation.

Omar jumped, having forgotten they were there. Of course they were there - This was their room. Where else would they be? So much for his mission.

"I followed you." Omar said rubbing his throat nervously.

"Here." Hank offered him a cloth from his pocket to dap the wound with. His eyes were slightly wider then normal, had they really come that close to seeing an innocent kid hurt? Over the past years he and Charles had become much closer friends, and one of their common topics of conversation was on that thin line that Azazel, and now more than ever, Erik walked.

Omar took the cloth in silence. His head down and his face flushed. "I just wanted to prove that I can handle myself-" he began.

"Clearly." Azazel muttered.

Erik turned around sharply with the other's sword still in his fist. "You could have killed him."

Azazel didn't seem bothered, "Twenty minutes ago, you vere going to shoot me."

Erik's eyes narrowed, "If you don't shut up, I still might."

There was a tense silence for a few moments before Hank cleared his throat and helped the kid to his feet. Erik stood as well, his eyes scanning over the kid a final time before walking over and closing the door which had been left open in their sudden entrance.

"Azazel, take the kid home." Erik's voice broke the silence.

"Da-" Azazel began only to be cut off by Omar, "No!"

"Your screw up nearly cost you your life, Omar. This is what I mean by you _aren't_ ready." Erik's voice was strained. Though he seemed more angry at the near miss then he was at Omar.

"Agreed, but if you had let me come in the first place - _that - _would have never happened!" Omar retaliated.

"He's got a point." Bobby started but silenced himself upon receiving the Lensherr glare that was known to turn water to ice.

"Take him home." Erik repeated and Azazel stood up from where he was leaning against the wall.

"Erik, please." Omar begged, "Haven't you ever wanted to save your family?"

There was a cold silence in the room and Omar got the impression he had said the very wrong thing.

"Mine are gone." Erik said abruptly.

"I know. So are mine." Omar was in it up to his neck, he knew this was the time to make or break his case. With out argument, he had Erik's attention. "You guys are the only family I have now. Let me do my part." Omar swallowed as he was met with silence, unable to see Erik's facial expression he had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"…Omar." Erik's voice was taunt and controlled.

"Please. I will stay out of the way." Omar's voice wavered.

"…I don't thi-" Erik was cut off again.

"Erik, Please! You have no idea what it took for me to get here!" Omar interjected.

"Omar.' Erik tried to interrupt.

"I snuck on the plane. Found my way out of the woods…" Omar repeated, vaguely aware of the impressed sound Hank made.

"Omar." Erik tried again.

"I hitched a ride with a cop. I conned my way up here." Omar didn't take a breath as he continued.

"Omar would you please-" Erik sounded frustrated.

"Just so I could help you!" Omar all but shouted.

"Omar would you shut the hell up?" Erik snapped and got the reaction he expected as the teen fell into silence. Pleased with the silence, Erik continued " I was trying to say I don't think it's a good idea." Omar nodded mutely as Erik finished his thoughts "…but I can appreciate where you are coming from. If you can follow orders, and stay out of the way…you can stay."

Everyone in the room watched Erik in surprised silence. Bobby clapped Omar on the back with a grin while Hank checked over his throat.

In the commotion Erik handed Azazel his sword and left the room . He went downstairs to a pay-phone, his pace was deliberate, He inserted his change and punched in the number he had committed to memory many years ago. His jaw tight with emotion. How exactly could a fifteen year old run away aboard a top secret jet and the telepath causally forget to notice?

In calmer moments Erik would have thought before the call, but not now. Right now he couldn't shake the memory of Omar's panicked face and his blood on Azazel's sword.

"Xavier Institute." Raven's voice over the line brought his focus back to the task at hand.

Erik's tone demanded no argument, "Raven, it's Erik. Get Charles on the line. We need to talk."

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><p><strong>Thanks for Reading!<strong>

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	5. Tension on the Line

A/N: I don't know if anyone is around here at this point. Not that I would blame you as I said, "I'M BACK!"...then vanished again. I just wanted to share with you guys that it's officially over. My husband of eight years and I have separated and right now this house feels really big with me and my little boy in it. I have been feeling kind of ...well, very alone in the world right now.A friend who was helping us move things around happened to find my copy of Echoes of the Mind. I had it printed out with reviews, fan art etc and bound. Leafing through the reviews I remembered how each and every one of you lifted me up to new heights.I came to realize that I need you all now - more than ever.I think I will begin to write again, … starting by finishing Touched By The Echo.

This story is the continuation of Echoes of the Mind, which currently has 1,701 reviews. Read it first or you shall be completely lost!

Disclaimer: The Characters (with the exception of Omar) belong to Marvel - The plot is mine.

Erik heard hushed voices over the slight static on the line before the click of a receiver being lifted from the table. All the angry words that Erik had planned on aiming at Charles were muted by the telepaths first five words, "Erik, I am so sorry."

There was an underlying pain in Charles' tone and it was enough to make Erik hesitate. "I am powerful, Erik. Yet, I simply cannot focus on everyone at every second of each day."

"How-?" Erik began but silenced himself. The answer was all to clear. The realization left him wishing for his helmet. How else could Charles have known what was happening with out reading his thoughts.

"Forgive me. When Raven woke me and said you were upset, I thought the worst. I only meant to understand the situation was quickly as possible. I did not mean to be invasive." Charles knew Erik. He knew he hated the thought of someone in his mind. He also knew that the best way to cause that infamous temper to wane was to simply break Erik's focus. Something he had succeeded in doing by speaking first.

Erik was still angry, but he was past the point of a steadily building rage. He rested his hand absently atop the metal casing of the phone. His fingers twitching and manipulating the mechanisms with in the phone. He held his hand out to catch a few nickels and dimes which emptied from the slot.

"I understand that, Charles," Erik began, "but that does not change the fact that Azazel very nearly killed him." Erik's tone remained sharp, but he seemed more angry at the near miss than at Charles' oversight.

"That is why I am sorry," Charles remarked a second time. The rage and concern that were running rampant in Erik's mind slowed and faded away at the arrival of the blanketed affection he felt enter his mind. It was odd that in moments such as these he felt closer to the telepath then when they sat together at breakfast.

For a moment Erik let himself wonder why exactly that was…then he realized, he didn't want to know the answer.

"Charles…" Erik faltered.

"Yes, I know," Charles returned the unspoken words that had always come hard to Erik. Now, though, it seemed like they hardly came at all. Charles took a deeper breath and reluctantly focused on the task at hand. "Do you intend on letting him stay?" His voice was soft on the line.

"If he can stay out of the way," Erik answered, reluctantly shaking the fog from his mind.

"Do you think that is wise?" Charles asked him softly.

"Not really. I would simply rather him be here on my terms, than to pull this stunt again," Erik answered evenly.

Erik's hand slid into the pocket of his coat while they spoke. His brows furrowed in confusion before he removed the old pocket watch from its resting place. He closed his eyes for a moment in silent frustration. He had meant to leave the watch with Charles. He had left that watch with Charles on every mission since he told the telepath his true name. He had forgotten, and that bothered him deeply. His fingers coiled around the metal and shoved it back into his pocket. Inwardly he wondered if Charles had noticed it was missing, but he already knew the answer.

"_**Erik,"**_ Charles spoke into the other's mind, and Erik jumped. Only then did he notice that the other had been speaking while he had been so focused on the watch.

"I am here," Erik responded releasing the watch and resuming his manipulation of the telephone's inner workings.

"How did your recon mission go?" Charles prompted a second time, once he was sure he had the other's attention.

"It went well," Erik answered carefully, before he looked around the exterior of the phone booth for any eavesdroppers. After a moment he continued, "We saw them in the back of a bar. We didn't see the exchange; we just heard the lay out of the order. They are able to discuss things in the open because they are talking like horse traders. The deal we heard today was, 'A 1958 chestnut filly, untouched, who can out run just about anything. Starting bid $7000'. Basically, a red-haired virgin with some sort of speed mutation…near as we can translate their terms."

Charles made a choked sound on the other end of the line, "1958...that would mean she would only be-"

"Fourteen or fifteen." Erik finished. Most would have thought him unemotional, but Charles heard the tension.

"That's horrible," Charles spoke softly, with emotion deep in his voice. The pained tones of the telepath told the master of magnetism that Charles was alone in the room. He was not one to fully show his emotions when the team was around. He wasn't stoic by any means, but he also didn't burst into tears at the drop of a hat, even when he deserved to. It was often in the darkness of their room when Charles spoke out about his fears and personal struggles as the leader of his X-Men.

Erik had enough respect for Charles not to mention the give away in his voice. Instead he moved on, "They are meeting again tomorrow. I will go as a trader and bring one of the others with me as a product. Hopefully it will draw out some big fish, and we will be able to take down the entire ring, not just one person."

"That's incredibly dangerous," Charles offered softly.

"I know," Erik replied simply.

Charles closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded to himself. "Who will you take?" he asked, the concern impossible to miss.

"I am not sure, Charles. We will work that out before the meeting with the buyer tomorrow." Erik brushed off the others question. It was not that he was trying to be difficult. In truth, he knew it wouldn't be an easy call, and he didn't want Charles to have to make it. "Get some sleep Charles," Erik finished.

"Alright, please keep me apprised of the situation," Charles requested. Erik had already begun to hang up the phone when he heard the other speak again. "Oh, and Erik, please be careful."

"Will do," Erik glanced at the small line forming at the phone booth. One woman knocked heavily on the door. Erik turned his back so she didn't see the smirk on his face as her purse strap came apart and her belongings tumbled out onto the linoleum floor of the hotel.

He hung up the phone and opened the door. He walked around the woman and back up stairs. He had a tough decision. Of all his team, who would he choose to literally hand over to a slave trader..?

**Feed the Hungry Writer**

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	6. A Deal with the Devil

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! It means so much for me to check on here and 'see' all of these familiar usernames! It made my night! Thank you all so much!**

**Charles/ Erik - Don't like it? Don't read it.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel the plot is mine.****J**

After a night of uneasy sleep and a day of planning, Erik walked into the dingy bar. At his side was his merchandise. With his head down, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, Bobby moved tensely beside him. The bar was full of the smell of stale beer and the appearance of poorly dressed people. A man in the back of the bar however, wore a fine suit, and was flanked by two large muscled men.

He was not hard to spot. Erik led Bobby through the crowd and came to a stop in front of the man. He didn't miss the reaction of the musclemen as they stood when he approached. Erik remained calm and spoke to the man for the time, ignoring the others. "I hear you are the man to talk to about unloading some good stock."

"You heard wrong," the man said with a tone of boredom before muttering something in French to one of his henchmen.

"I really doubt that," Erik answered smoothly, "looks like your drink has gone warm." He reached out and picked up the glass. The men on either side flinched, and Erik ignored them. He knew of the guns they hid under their jackets, but they did not bother him. He casually handed the glass back to Bobby. As Bobby extended his hand to take the glass, the metal cuffs were visible. He chilled the class and laid it on the table.

The ring leader reached forward and picked up the glass twisting it between his fingers. "You have my attention."

"I thought I might," Erik answered with a smirk.

"How much for this model?" Came the other's question. The dealing had begun.

"He isn't up for bids. I have a use for him. He is merely an example of what I have to offer." Erik tried not to sound too solid on the point. He didn't want to appear to have loyalty to the mutant he had cuffed at his side.

The man seemed clearly displeased. "I'll give you 10,000 for him."

"Not for sale," Erik repeated.

"$13,000- final offer." The man pulled out a check book.

"Not for sale. At least not for that kind of money." Erik crossed his arms.

"Fine," the man muttered, shoving his checkbook away. "What other stock do you have for sale?"

"Clearly nothing you can afford," Erik said dismissively.

The man was somewhat red in the face at the insinuation. "I can get the money."

"Not interested." Erik turned to leave, taking Bobby by the upper arm, a little harder than necessary, but that was how the game went.

"Wait, my boss has the cash." The man had risen when Erik turned to leave.

Erik tilted his head at the man, as if surveying if he was worth the effort. " My stock does not come cheap." Bobby shifted nervously, and Erik could feel the tension in his arm under his finger tips.

"Look, my boss, Nathaniel Essex…he has it. I'm sure of it." His tone gave away his desire for the deal.

"Then I will deal with this Mr. Essex," Erik replied simply. Their goal had been, after all, to break apart the entire organization, not just one man.

The man suddenly shifted nervously, his fingers raking through his somewhat sparse hair. "He doesn't meet people."

Erik rolled his broad shoulders dismissively. "Then we have nothing more to discuss. I do pity you, though. When your boss finds out about the deal you have just lost him." Erik once more turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" The man gave out a brief call before remembering where he was and composing himself. "Perhaps, we can make a deal." Erik tilted his head listening in silence. "Let me buy this colt off of you," he nodded toward Bobby. "At least for the time being, let me bring him to my boss as a sign of good faith.

Bobby suddenly grew very tense, his eyes watching Erik, who had given away as little as ever.

"**Don't even think about it,"** Charles' voice surged into Erik's mind. Erik barely managed to keep his facial features composed enough so as to not give anything away to the man waiting on an answer.

"**I don't want to Charles, but I don't see another way in. Ask Bobby," **Erik thought in taunt reply.

"…I assure you that your stock shall be returned to you, undamaged. Should something unforeseeable happen, you will be fully reimburse for the loss of your merchandise." The man continued his sales pitch completely unaware of the silent conversation going on a few feet away.

Erik turned his attention toward Bobby, still apparently debating on the deal. Bobby's eyes were determined when they met the cool, calculating stare of Erik Lensherr.

"**I am wholly against this, Erik, but Bobby is adamant. I will stay in contact with him at all times. Keep Azazel apprised of the situation should we need to pull him out quickly." **Charles voice sounded strained even in the echoes of Erik's mind.

"13,000 and not a penny less," Erik answered finally, his focus once more on the man. Bobby seemed relieved to have won the battle of wills. "Half will be returned when the exchange is complete."

The man broke away to speak in French briefly to one of the flunkies beside him and then excused himself. He returned swiftly with a briefcase, as well as a pair of shackles hidden in the pocket of his coat. Erik was handed the funds, and he counted them while one of the larger men stood behind him to keep the bar goers from noticing.

Once satisfied, he closed the case and stepped in close beside of Bobby as he unlocked the cuffs he was currently wearing. He leaned toward the other and spoke both swiftly and softly in Bobby's ear, "Keep your powers low. If they know what you can really do, we may never find you again."

Erik stepped back and let one of the muscle men subtly apply their own cuffs to Bobby. Erik caught Bobby's eye over the man's shoulder and raised an eyebrow in one final, silent question. Was he ready for this? Bobby offered a taut smile that came no where close to his eyes and nodded.

There silent exchange was cut short as the two large men escorted Bobby out. The nameless man who had managed the sale handed a business card to Erik as he passed him. "My boss will meet you here in three days on midnight."

Then he was gone, and Erik was left to stand in the loud bar and hope he had made the right call. He turned the card over between his slender fingers and read the information to himself. A tall man in a trench coat and hat came to stand beside of him.

"Azazel," Erik spoke with trepidation. "How is your geography?"

"Effective," Azazel answered dismissively. "Vere is dis?" His red hand slipped from his pocket and took the card from Erik to read its location. Erik let him take the card passively before he turned and asked him very simply,

"Have you ever heard of 'Genosha?"


End file.
